


We're All Going...

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is NOT happy when he finds out the pack have left him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're All Going...

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt Vacation. This is my last Cotton Candy Bingo prompt. I've so enjoyed this challenge and I've got to say a big thank you to everyone who read and everyone who was kind enough to leave a comment or kudos. And (possibly because I'm a) crazy or b) totally adoring Teen Wolf and you adorable fandom you) I've got to pop in a plug for [Teen Wolf Bingo](http://teenwolf-bingo.livejournal.com/) which is going to be my next challenge :D

The first time Stiles realised something was going on was when he caught Scott actually limping in between classes. “Dude, why are you walking like that?”

“Lacrosse. Sprints. Suicides.” Yeah, Scott still couldn’t lie to him.

“I thought your super wolfy powers took care of that.” Stiles watched out of the side of his eyes as Scott’s eye widened in panic.

“Just having an off day.” Scott huffed out and insincere laugh and headed off to Chem, leaving Stiles standing beside his locker on his own. It wasn’t even like Allison was pulling Scott away or anything. This shit would not do.

 

Derek had a black eye. Derek Hale, Mr I’m the Alpha now, had a black eye. Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off it. Derek looked, well, kinda hot with it and the grey wife-beater and the leather jacket and his stupidly perfect hair that was all tousled and like someone had just run their fingers through it. Someone like Stiles. Not that Derek would be…

Stiles was off on a tangent. Derek had a black eye. It was bruised and bleeding from purple and red to green and yellow but it wasn’t healing instantly. Not that anyone had punched Derek in the minutes since Stiles had got here and stared amazed at Derek without saying anything. Okay. That was kinda awkward.

Erica looked fine when she threw herself onto the kerbside recycled sofa behind Derek. Then she let out a soft, bitten off cry that was almost worse than a full on howl of pain.

“What did you do?” Stiles had been practising his stink-eye. Or perhaps he’d been getting too much use out of it lately. Regardless, the expression seemed to work as the assorted werewolves in front of him stopped trying to be all strong and grrr and slumped into various poses of discomfort and pain. Stiles felt bad for them but he had more burning questions. “Was it the Alphas again? Why didn’t you call me?” He could also feel his voice rising and rising. Soon he’d be squeaking like he’d been sucking down helium.

“Wasn’t the Alpha pack.” Derek came closer, hands outstretched. “And we…”

Boyd waved a lazy hand from his sprawl on the floor. “Witches.”

“I can deal with witches! I have – fuck, what was – a spark! Right?” Stiles spun around. He was rapidly moving from worried through annoyed to full on pissed.

Derek looked sad. It was kinda pathetic.

“You were bitching about that English project. And your dad. And sleep.” Scott just didn’t know when to stop. "We didn't want to bother you."

Stiles spoke directly to Derek. “But the pack comes first. You have to know that.” There was perhaps an unspoken, forever not discussed promise there too.

“We just wanted to give you a vacation.” Isaac was probably trying to be helpful. However, it was his interference that sent Stiles off on a rant about ungrateful werewolves and how he was smart and could plan and how he was valuable. He didn’t take any pleasure in how cowed they all looked by the time he’d finished.

Then he stormed out.

 

Stiles’ window had been locked but he wasn’t even sure why he bothered. He turned over in the middle of the night, woke enough to check the time and for messages on his phone and just sighed when the light caught the gleam of Derek’s eyes in the darkness.

“Come here,” Stiles said, half asleep but aware enough to make space on the bed. This was another part of that promise, perhaps. Or another promise altogether.

Derek stretched out beside him, radiating heat through the thin sheets separating them. Stiles was almost asleep again before Derek spoke. “We just wanted you to have some time to yourself. I wanted… Sorry.” The last was said in such a low voice that if Stiles wasn’t basically lying face to face with Derek, he wouldn’t have heard it.

Stiles flipped a hand, catching Derek’s shoulder and squeezing for a moment. It felt smooth and firm and nice. “S’okay. Meant well. Sleep now.”

 

In the (oh god, too early) morning, Stiles was sprawled over Derek’s stomach where his shirt had rolled up and he felt like he’d slept for weeks. Derek was awake, one hand brushing uncertainly over the brush of Stiles’ hair. It was nice. Apologies were nicer. And Stiles remembered he’d got one.

“Hey.” He didn’t move, maybe rubbed his nose a little against the warm skin under his cheek. “Thanks.”

“For…?” Derek’s hand stuttered before resuming the gentle caress.

“Thinking about me.” Stiles squirmed around until he was facing Derek which meant his other cheek was using Derek as a pillow. “Next time, we’re hitting the beach.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled. He liked the idea all of a sudden – especially the idea of Derek in wet, clinging swimming shorts, water pouring down his chiselled pecs, making his nipples stand out, tracing a path down the cut of his hips. Stiles deserved to see that. The universe owed him that. “You deserve a vacation too.”

Derek kept stroking his hand over Stiles’ hair. He didn’t say no.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU!


End file.
